The Path of the Hero King bt-2

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The Path of the Hero King bt-2 Page 41

by Nigel Tranter


  Even Christina joined in the chorus of declamation.

  “Your Grace will perceive that MacDouall did not offer to treat with the Earl of Carrick! Who has been besieging him these many weeks.

  Only when you come, and he is gone, does this man seek these terms.

  Because he knows your brother would have none of him!

  Save hanging on a rope!”

  All knew that to be the truth, Bruce better than any. Yet he turned and paced away some distance, to stand staring over towards the strange shield-shaped castle that rose out of its complicated system of morass and water-barrier, unseeing. Once again he was fighting, fighting one of his own dire battles with himself, the King fighting the man. Dugald MacDouall, the treacherous Gallovidian he had sworn a great oath to kill, the man for whose blood that of his young brothers cried out. He had spared those other two, whom he had likewise vowed to slay-William of Ross and Alexander MacDougall. Spared and accepted to his peace, his very company, after all they had done. Must he do the same with this, this third especial offender? Was this sacrifice demanded of him, also …?

  He turned back to the waiting company, set-faced.

  “MacDouall,” he said, expressionlessly.

  “Go back to your father. Tell him that he may march out of Dumfries, he and his, with my safe conduct. To England. This day. Tell him for I will by no means see him-that he will be wise to bide in England hereafter. For if he sets foot in my realm again, I will take him and hang him. You understand?”

  The other’s response was lost in the uproar of the Scots leaders’ disbelief, wrath and reproach. The King signed to Boyd to take the young man away.

  “My lord Constable,” he snapped, to Gilbert Hay, “you will go, in my

  name, to receive the surrender of Dumfries. You will ensure the safety

  of the garrison, and see them sent on their way to the Border Let

  there be no mistake, see yon.” He paused, to run his eye sombrely over the critical ranks of his friends.

  “You all blame me, I see. You all name me fool, or worse. Think that I forget the blood of my brothers and my friends. Do not deny it-I see it on every face. Thank you God, then, that you are none of you the King! That you can afford to judge scoundrels on their merits where I must judge causes, results, policies, the realm’s best weal. How easy your judgement! How difficult mine.”

  “You will win few to your cause by sparing MacDouall,” Angus Og declared.

  “You will not win his allegiance. He will continue to fight against you, hating you no less for your gentleness.”

  “Gentleness, man!” Bruce’s bark of laughter had no mirth in it.

  “Think you there was any gentleness in that decision? Or in my heart? You know me little, it seems, still. I spared MacDouall because it was the price to pay for Dumfries. With Dumfries ours we can starve this Caerlaverock. It will soon fall. But by no other means. And Buittle thereafter. The last English stronghold in Galloway. This is of greater worth than my vengeance on MacDouall.

  And I have not the men, nor the time now, to spare in further prolonged siegery. You have heard what has happened at Hexham and the Tyne. Let that remain unpunished, and all that we have done in the North of England will fall. All others will follow the Prior of Hexham’s lead. For two years we have milked Cumberland and Northumberland, to our great gain. And kept the English from winning any great army from their North. We have won silver we direly needed. And time, precious time. All that will be sacrificed if I do not immediately deal with Hexham and Tynedale and the rest. My brother saw it, dimly, and went raiding yonder, in anger. I cross the Border otherwise, not in angry raiding but of set policy. Although my anger may have some play also, I think! And I need these men who have wasted their time, and mine, at Dumfries and Caerlaverock.”

  There was question on every face, now.

  “You change your course then, Sire?”

  “You do not sail for Man?” That was Angus Og, almost hopefully.

  “I do not. I have other work to do.” Bruce straightened up.

  “Now-leave me, my friends. For I have much thinking to do, first. We

  shall have a council later. Gibbie -off with you to Dumfries”

  That evening Hay rode back, with Boyd and most of the besieging host, to announce that all had proceeded smoothly at Dumfries. MacDouall and his garrison had marched out just after midday, and were now well on their way over the Border, under escort. Sir Robert Fleming was acting as governor of the town.

  Bruce sent a trumpeter and herald to announce these facts, across the sunset-stained waters, to Caerlaverock Castle-whose present captain, it transpired, was no other than David de Strathbogie, the offended Earl of Atholl.

  The council called for that night was more than usually formal, and deliberately so. It was not so much a council as an audience.

  The King was not seeking advice, but giving decisions. But he commenced proceedings, in Randolph’s tented pavilion, with some ceremony.

  “It is my royal will and good pleasure,” he announced, “to honour in especial at this time two lords in whom I repose much trust and confidence. Step forward Angus MacDonald of the Isles, Lord High Admiral of my realm; and Sir Thomas Randolph, Lord of Nithsdale, my sister’s son.”

  Surprised, and eyeing each other a little askance, the pair came forward.

  “My lord Angus-your service and leal devotion is of the greatest importance to my cause. There has been dispute in the past between you and your brother, Alexander of Islay, now in Ireland, who has not supported me and has given aid and comfort to my enemies, in especial the MacDougalls. Your desire to reunite within your Lordship that part of your ancestor Somerled’s heritage now dispersed to other descendants, is known to me. Therefore it is my will that hereafter Islay and Tiree be forfeited by your brother Alexander, and bestowed upon yourself. Also that the former MacDougall lands of Duror and Glencoe, and the Isle of Mull, likewise be so bestowed. And that the former Comyn territory of Lochaber be included in your Lordship. Thus it becomes the greatest in territory in all my realm. In return, apart from your continued loyal friendship and aid, I but require that you provide and build for me a royal castle at Tarbert, between Knapdale and Kintyre, for my use and garrison.”

  There was a pregnant silence in that tent, as everyone, not only Angus Og, weighed the King’s words, and probed their significance. That this was a highly important pronouncement went without saying, infinitely more vital than any mere appointment such as the High Admiralship, which could be revoked at the royal will. Once the Lord of the Isles occupied and possessed these extra vast territories, dispossession would be well nigh impossible.

  Yet Tarbert, that tiny isthmus of land between Loch Fyne and the

  Western Sea, was in fact the essential key to any attempt to bring

  control to bear on the Sudreys -that is, the isles and mainland coasts

  south of the Ardnamurchan peninsula, to which the territories mentioned belonged-clear evidence that the King intended to retain at least some hold on the area. And, as it happened, the Isle of Man was always reckoned to be a detached but important part of the Sudreys. And the Isle of Man had not been mentioned.

  Angus Og took the careful part, and inclined his head, without committing his thanks, or his doubts, to words.

  Bruce went on.

  “Sir Thomas Randolph-after previous error, mistaken but honourable, you have proved yourself most loyal, reliable and able. Your judgement I have found valuable. As my near kin, it is right and fitting that you should be ranked other than as a simple knight. It is therefore my royal pleasure that you shall be raised to the station of an earl of this realm.”

  The other did not hide his surprise, as he bowed low.

  “One earldom stands vacant, with the forfeiture and death, without male heir, of the late Buchan. I cannot conceive that you would wish to bear that dishonoured title. But there is another ancient earldom, of the Celtic polity to which you belong, vacant since the death of Earl Angus over a century ago-that of
Moray.

  Ancient, honourable and great. The lands of that earldom have in the main been acquired by the House of Comyn, and are now at my disposal by forfeiture. Lands from the Spey to the Ness, including much of Buchan; and west to the borders of Lochaber, including the great Lordship of Badenoch. I believe that you are the man to control those wide and important lands well and ably, recognising their consequence to my kingdom and rule.” He paused, unbuckling his own golden earl’s belt.

  “I do now, therefore, name and appoint, invest and belt you, Earl of Moray.” And stooping, the King clasped the golden girdle about his nephew’ sand erstwhile enemy’s -waist.

  The acclaim from the company was polite rather man enthusiastic-for the stiffish Randolph was scarcely popular, though Gibbie Hay and Hugh Ross had become his close friends. Also few there failed to notice that the new earl’s lands marched with Angus Og’s new Lochaber on the west, and the Earl of Ross’s territories on the north. In other words, the King was inserting both a buffer between these traditional enemies, and his own watchdog into the Highland provinces.

  Randolph was obviously overwhelmed by this totally unexpected honour and promotion. He shook his head helplessly.

  But Bruce was not yet finished. He stepped back, and dropping the ceremonial tone, spoke more briskly.

  “Furthermore, my lord of Moray, you may make shift to add to your possessions! I go to Tynedale, not the Isle of Man. You shall go there in my stead, with my Lord of the Isles. Commanding my land forces, as he commands the sea. And if you can win Man back from the enemy, it is yours.”

  There was a great sigh from the company, as all was now clear.

  Man was to be prevented from becoming a conquest of Angus Og’s, and he was given much else, less strategically dangerous, instead.

  The vital Sudreys were to be divided. It was seen why Randolph had been chosen for this venture, and created earl so suddenly-so that the Lord of the Isles could neither refuse to co-operate, nor insist on being in command over one of lesser rank. As King’s nephew, and an earl, Randolph’s position would be safeguarded, and offence by Angus Og be made difficult.

  It was apparent that the monarch had indeed been thinking, and to considerable effect.

  Thereafter, Bruce went on to deal with matters tactical and organisation al in businesslike fashion, so that the atmosphere lost much of its tension and drama. Christina MacRuarie looked cynical -but then she often did.

  The two expeditions would part company next day.

  During the night, Edward Bruce took the opportunity to slip back across the Solway sands, at low tide and in darkness. He came on from Dumfries to rouse his brother, full of news, question, advice and demands.

  The King, who did not relish Edward’s headstrong presence in either expedition, informed him that he was taking most of his brother’s men to Tynedale; but that he wanted him to go north, forthwith, and set up the inevitably prolonged sieges of Stirling Castle and Dundee. Edward was not enthusiastic, pointing out the wearisome and static nature of the tasks-to have pointed out to him in return that means might be found, as at Perth, to expedite that procedure. The other was, understandably, a little hipped over Perth’s fall-as he was about the Dumfries terms and surrender, after he had done all the work. He could hardly refuse the remit-but he took the opportunity to strike a blow for a concern of his own. Without actually framing it as a bargain, he indicated that he would tackle the task more enthusiastically if Robert would agree, as had been suggested on a number of occasions, to have him officially adopted as heir to the throne.

  The King was careful, as in the past, not to commit himself. He would

  consider it-but his daughter’s interests must not be overlooked, even

  though she was a captive in England … Edward’s vigorous exposition on

  the follies of having a reigning queen on the throne of battling

  Scotland-especially a young and absentee one-kept the King from his

  sleep for considerably longer.

  So, while a somewhat disgruntled Earl of Carrick headed north, and a not entirely contented Lord of the Isles took the new Earl of Moray and a great fleet southwest to the Isle of Man, the King of Scots personally led a light cavalry force of some 1,500 southeast into England, by the same route as before. And this time he pulled no punches. Ignoring the Vale of Irthing, which had not yet recovered from the assault of two years earlier, he made straight down Tyne, spreading fire and destruction. Hexham was of course his especial target; and after cutting down the still hanging bodies of his commissioners, he destroyed the town entirely-save for the Priory itself, which he left undamaged, although he appropriated all its silver and treasure that he could find. It seemed that Prior Thomas de Fenwick had been replaced by a younger man, one Robert de Whelpington, with instructions from Archbishop Greenfield of York to have no more truck with the Scots.

  Bruce decided that the Archbishop required instruction also.

  Setting up his base at Corbridge, downstream from Hexham, he subjected the South Tyne area to a systematic devastation such as even Wallace’s 1297 invasion had not equalled. Then, with no major opposition materialising, he drove on southwards, not so much burning and harrying now as making demonstration and demanding tribute, payment for relief, and at high rates-and getting it. On to the very gates of Newcastle they pressed. But finding that strongly walled city too tough a nut to crack quickly, they by-passed it, availing the Teame valley instead, with rich reward. Then on to Durham itself.

  They were now nearly a hundred miles deep into England, and Bruce was growing a little anxious. His scouts gave him no intimation of any large enemy force being mustered against them; but if any were being raised in the west, he could be all too easily cut off from home. He decided that Durham-or at least, Hartlepool, where he had family lands whose revenues had long been denied him-was as far as he dared go on this occasion; York must wait And, woefully, his wife Elizabeth, seventy miles farther than York, must wait also.

  Bishop Kellew of Durham, successor to the late and unlamented Beck, was away at a parliament in the south, and his great castle on its rock safe from all but prolonged siege. But the rich city itself was vulnerable; and after some part of it was reduced to ashes, its chief citizens were urgent to persuade Bruce to accept an immediate 2,000 merits, with promises of a total of 5,000, and hostages to ensure payment. With the humiliating rider that they must agree to provide free ingress and egress through the County Palatine whenever the King of Scots chose to invade England, Bruce accepted their terms for one year’s protection. The fact that it was the Prince-Bishop’s land, and largely his money also, was the best of it.

  The King turned for home not dissatisfied, the Scots Treasury in a better state, by a total of nearly 40,000, pounds than it had been for many a year, the county authorities of Northumberland, Cumberland and Westmorland each having agreed to pay 2,000 pounds over and above their constituent places, for a year’s peace.

  The Scots reached the Border area without interception; but Bruce’s luck changed nevertheless, and the last stages of that ride were something of a personal nightmare. Sickness struck him, of the same variety that he had suffered at Inverurie six years before, brought on no doubt by the same causes-lack of rest and proper feeding, plus the hard and insanitary conditions of continuous campaigning. Once again fever, vomiting, skin-rash and intolerable itch was his lot, with ever-increasing weakness. But now he had to continue to ride.

  Possibly his sickness was basically responsible for the second misfortune.

  His advance party was attacked and badly cut up by a company out from the Carlisle garrison, in the Haltwhistle area; and just because the King was only too well aware of the hindrance he had become to his people, he agreed to fierce demands for retaliation on the fortress of Carlisle itself, to which he probably never would have listened in less fevered state. In the event, the typical secret night attack was repulsed with serious losses, a barking dog alarming the guards, and the main garrison rallying swiftly. It was
a sobered and reduced company which recrossed the Border line at length, with their semi-delirious monarch demanding to be taken to Jamie Douglas’s camp at the siege of Roxburgh Castle.

  Bruce was not aware of his arrival at Roxburgh, where Teviot joined

  Tweed; nor of the loving care he received en route or at Douglas’s

  hands. And only dimly aware of the hot summer weeks that followed,

  while he lay helpless, and of the succession of his friends who came

  sorrowfully from far and near to visit him. At some stage he realised

  that Christina MacRuarie was back, nursing him, but did not know that

  it was for Elizabeth de Burgh that he constantly moaned and cried-with

  whom sometimes he believed that he gripped in his arms-thereby

  twisting a sharp knife in the Highlandwoman’s heart Strangely enough,

  it was his brother again who really set him on the road to recovery, a recovery of the spirit primarily, rather than of the body. For in August Edward came in triumph to Roxburgh, thinking to cheer the King into health by the tale of his successes.

  Dundee had fallen at last, he announced. And Stirling would be theirs within the year.

  Robert, on his sickbed, required a little while to take this in, and Edward expiated on his tactics at Dundee and what he had done to the English and the traitors therein. But it was not on this that his brother’s mind fixed.

  “Stirling …?” he said thinly.

  “You said … Stirling will be ours? Within a year. How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I have come to terms with the captain, Sir Philip Moubray. If it is not relieved within the year, he yields Stirling to me. Moubray -he who struck you down at Methven fight…”

  “You gave him a year! To be relieved? And … and raised the siege?

 

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